Yesterday, we decided to have an intervention with Oliver to quit his addiction to television, cold turkey. He vocally disapproved of this but was quickly distracted by his neglected toys. Soon this more active Oliver became "a little bit hyper" Oliver which quickly elevated to "come, come my lady, Crazy Town" Oliver and before I knew it he was running like a maniac all over the house. Having been cursed with my extreem lack of coordination, it didn't take long before he was in mid air, flying head first into the wall/air vent. He put a nice "L" shaped hole in his head. He did score one for the dent he left in the drywall but the house scored two for the hair it pulled out of his head when it was pinched by the cracked paint. After me and Nicole deliberated wether a trip to the ER was necessary, we asked him our names and had him count to ten and decided that a completely coherent Oliver deserved an oversized dose of motrin and a good nap.
The moral of the story: No TV hurts babies.
